The door of our locker room swings open, revealing Finnick whose bags under his eyes have succumbed compared to this morning, indicating the possibility his hangover underwent the same transformation is existent.

After a glance at my watch, I wish for his sake it did because concluding from the time he has left before we have to assemble on the field, he'll most likely have his usual quality time with coach Torrez after practice in the form of punishment exercises for being late.

However, over the years I've begun to think Finnick doesn't interpret it as punishment but rather as an extra opportunity to keep his physique at a top-notch level. That man's ability to see the positive in every situation is phenomenal. Even when he's hungover he endures it without whining.

Negotiating? Yes, absolutely.

Whining? Never.

Coach Torrez must've started to crack the code because recently he started to punish the rest of the team on behalf of Finnick which is why, on second thought, I'm wishing for my sake his hangover is absent enough for him to hurry into his clothes without a trip to the toilet.

"Birthday boy! What did you think of my present for you?" Matteo chimes as he slaps Finnick's back.

He immediately returns the sentiment with the brightest wide-toothed smile I've ever seen, however his slap is audibly harsher and the blue in his eyes could freeze someone to death. "You're a fucking asshole."

The grin displayed on Matteo's face is carefully crafted by the devil. Stone cold yet to anyone who knows him well enough a hint of mischief is detectible in the slight crinkle of his eyes. He's enjoying every second of Finnick's stare as if he feeds on it to gain energy.

"You didn't like the pet I got you?" The corner of my mouth quirks up as I remember Finnick pleading to remove the snake from his bedroom.

"He screamed," I snicker, joining in on the fun of mocking him. Daniel's fist flies in front of his mouth to keep himself from laughing.

"It was a soft squeal," Finnick defends himself but we all ignore him.

"I think the neighbors even heard him." Satisfaction covers Matteo's face as he attentively listens to my version of the story.

"That loud?"

"It wasn't that loud." Finnick frowns as he tries to downplay it.

I might be Switzerland in this war going on between Matteo and Finnick but I can't help myself. "It sounded like he died for a second."

"I was surprised."

Matteo puts his foot on the bench to lace his shoes and glances up at me. "So like a growl or high-pitched?" His face is strict as if collecting details is detrimental to being able to fully paint the picture in his head.

"Definitely high pitched," I nod excessively. "It was pure fear."

Finnick abruptly drops his soccer shoes on the ground, grabbing our attention before we can elaborate further on the events of this morning. "Can we please stop fucking discussing the details of how my scream sounded?" Matteo and I lock eyes and whereas I purse my lips together not to burst out laughing, Matteo seems completely composed except for his eyes. They shine with victory.

"No."

"Why?" Pure exasperation.

"Because I had a shitty day so far and this is definitely cheering me up." Matteo casually says, continuing to rummage through his bag as if his words don't carry heavy baggage.

It's been almost two years since his mom died of cancer, and longer since his dad passed away but some days it's like no time has passed at all. He doesn't tell us but we can feel it. We can see it in his eyes. He's not a talker but his eyes sometimes tell us plenty.

"You okay?" He stops his movement as if he just realized what he's said. I glance at Finnick and Daniel, both their faces deprived of amusement. We all know my question is more likely to not get an answer but I can't help to ask.

Matteo clears his throat, clearly picking up on where all of our thoughts went. "I'm fine." A couple more seconds of silence pass before Finnick breaks through it.

"Fine, you win," he stands up, bringing back the lightness of our conversation. "My scream was high pitched because I was scared shitless." After meeting Finnick, it quickly became clear that he'd do anything to bring a smile to people's faces, even throw himself under the bus like he's doing right now.

"But you know what?" He spreads his arms theatrically, waiting for Matteo to turn around. When he finally does, his arms are crossed and one brow is arced. "I think if the choir heard me they'd grant me the position of countertenor and if that isn't something to be proud of I don't know what is." The corner of Matteo's mouth twitches, indicating he clearly knows what Finnick's saying.

The sight warms my chest. They may fight like vicious enemies but in their hearts, they're nothing but partners in crime. They might say they want to kill each other but I know that in the end, they'd rather stick a knife in their own heart than hurt the other.

"What's a countertenor?" Daniel asks the question that was roaming my mind.

"A very high male voice," Finnick explains.

"And how exactly do you know that?"

"I was in choir in high school." He shrugs. 

Both Daniel and I's heads snap toward him as we ask in unison, "You can sing?"

"Can I sing?" His hand touches his heart, his mouth drops open in shock as if our question was somehow offensive. "Dude, I can Elsa the shit out of Let It Go. Give me a wig and you won't even know the difference."

"Richardson," coach Torrez's deep rumbling voice screams as he pushes open the door. "Keep your singing for after practice. High notes won't score you goals."

Finnick cocks his head to the side. "You never know, coach. Maybe I'll stun the keeper so hard he'll forget to guard his goal. Never underestimate the power of Elsa." For a split second, I imagine him on the field in a blue dress, a wig on his head, and screaming Let it Go from the top of his lungs to distract the keeper. One glance at coach Torrez and I know he's seeing the same image flash before his eyes. Maybe he's shocked, maybe he sees the humor. Either way, it's clear from his answer he wants to burn the picture in his head as soon as possible.

"Don't even think about it."

"I'm just saying. You never know." To be honest, I think his strategy might work. Not because of his self-proclaimed perfect voice but because the keeper would be too confused to tear his attention away from Finnick's performance. Or at least I would be. First stunned, then amused, and then highly entertained because he wouldn't disappoint. When Finnick does something, he gives it his all and more.

Now that I think of it, I actually want to see him do it. It'd be a masterpiece. Only coach Torrez doesn't think it would be.

"I don't want to know. What I want is everyone on the field in 2 minutes."

"Yes, coach," the whole locker room answers before the door slams shut behind him as he strides away.

"So now that we've established my angel voice," Finnick begins as he hurries into his training outfit. "Can we discuss who I walked into this morning?" I momentarily stop lacing my shoes as I realize where this conversation is headed.

"I thought we already established the fact you woke up next to a snake, screaming." Matteo fires, earning a middle finger from Finnick in response.

"No, dipshit. I wasn't talking about your fucking snake. I was talking about how mister lover boy over here had company. For the record, I do apologize for the walk-in." Daniel and Matteo's heads snap from me to Finnick.

"You walked in on them?!" Daniel exclaims whereas Matteo just shakes his head laughing.

"You should learn to knock." Luckily, due to my reflexes, I hid August's naked body under the covers before he saw anything. Nonetheless, it isn't something I want to see happening again.

"Trust me, next time I'll scream from miles away before I enter. Then I'll knock your door nearly out of its frame before I even dare to turn the doorknob." He strides to me, holding up his pinky. I eye his finger before looking up at him from the locker room bench.

"Pinky promise," he clarifies.

"A simple knock would suffice, Richardson. I don't need the blaring warning signs," I laugh as I shove his hand away.

The rest of the team starts making their way to the field and I stand up, following their lead. I can feel the eyes of my three roommates burning on my back as I walk away, but I don't give them the satisfaction of seeing the look on my face.

I'm sure I look like a toddler who just got promised candy if he behaved. Trying to hide my excitement but unable to hold back the enthusiasm from painting my face.

"August stayed over, didn't she?" Daniel asks as we walk out of the building onto the soccer field. Or rather, he states because I'm sure the question is rhetorical.

"She did," I admit.

"So what now?" I shrug because honestly, I don't know. I don't know what we're doing. Last night was impulsive, however, at the same time, it wasn't.

It was impulsive in the sense that I impulsively decided to ignore the wrenching fright inside of me. To disregard the memories of her leaving three years ago. To turn a blind eye to the pain she caused when she ran away.

It wasn't impulsive in every other sense. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. Her smile. Her lips. Her piercing eyes pinning me down and luring me in. Last night wasn't impulsive because I knew I could never resist her if she kissed me again.

Turns out, she didn't even need to kiss me to break down my walls.

When she told me she wouldn't run I allowed myself to feel everything I'd been hiding from myself for the past weeks.

I gave in despite my fears.

"We haven't talked yet about what last night was or what it means," I confess.

I wanted to. I planned to but I was too caught up in the feeling of having her in my arms I kept telling myself 5 more minutes.

5 more minutes of holding her in my arms before breaking the blissful moment to face the reality of our actions.

5 more minutes of kissing her silky skin without the heavy weight of the meaning behind it holding us back.

5 more minutes with her.

5 more minutes of us.

5 more minutes of me afraid to face the possibility of my fear coming true.

And then she told me she had to leave.

I want an us. I want to fight for it. And even though it scares the living hell out of me, I want you, Colin. I always have and I always will.

Her words had been ringing through my head nonstop, silencing the fear. Fighting it. Willing it to back off from my heart.

However, when she abruptly announced she had to leave, my heart was beating in my chest and a lump had formed in my throat.

At that exact moment, I thought the scenario in my head that had been the main reason why I had been holding back was becoming reality.

I'd given in and she was pushing back. I'd stepped too close and she was turning around to walk away.

Even though she told me what happened three years ago, I can't help but sometimes think I pushed too much too fast. Or rather that she had let me wander inside her mind too far, that she had panicked because of it and decided to throw me out definitively.

Once the words indicating she had to leave flew through the room this morning, I immediately started to gather all the bricks from the walls around my heart she had pushed down last night. I scurried them together to rebuild the barrier, hoping to minimalize the damage that was bound to be made by her walking away.

Her words of confirmation were ringing through my head trying to defy my fear, however, I saw the similarities between what happened in the past and what was happening in the present, how she confessed she wanted more before disappearing from my life.

But then she took me in her arms and I dropped everything. Every single part of the wall I was starting to rebuild to hold her instead. 

"What do you want it to mean?" Daniel carefully asks.

Even though our situation might not be perfect, I don't want to let go. I want to hold her so close I'd mend all our broken parts together.

"I don't think I could ever not fall in love with her." It's a mere whisper. Soft. Delicate. A vulnerable confession. Out in the open.

Fuck, it's scary to know your heart isn't your own.

"Talk to her. Not in a week, or twee weeks, or 'if the timing is right'. Rip the band-aid off. I don't want to be a mood killer but I just don't want to see you hurt again." I nod, knowing he's right, that postponing the inevitable conversation will only feed my fear.

"Now that I've said what I wanted to say you can go back to being a walking unicorn on a rainbow."

"I'm not," I start to protest but he quickly stops me.

"Dude," Daniel laughs, "I wouldn't be surprised if you shat rays of sunshine right now."

"Fuck off." I shove him away even though, despite not knowing what we are, I do feel pretty fucking happy right now.